


Bewitched

by theremin



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27106888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theremin/pseuds/theremin
Summary: Greg finds Tom sulking at a Halloween party.
Relationships: Greg Hirsch/Tom Wambsgans
Comments: 15
Kudos: 44





	Bewitched

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this photoset](https://blakes-bell.tumblr.com/post/632337075496222720/i-what-the-tom-wambsgans-of-it-all)

Greg had been happy to receive an invitation to Connor and Willa's Halloween fundraiser. After the success of the RECNY gala Connor had been chomping at the bit to run another night like that, plus he figured it would be a good little addition to his growing list of charitable endeavours (available to peruse on his presidential campaign website). Greg had been a little less thrilled when he realized the invite came with a 2000 dollar price tag but – he could actually afford to throw 2000 dollars out the window now, or at least at starving children in need of school supplies or chemo or whatever, which was still a total headfuck every time he remembered.

He didn't know a lot of people at the ball, tried to mingle, but it wasn't super working out, and then he saw Tom sitting dejected on a sofa, nursing a wine glass. A good thing about Tom was he was pretty much always down to hang, even if he wasn't always great company. He made his way over to him. 

“Hey, Tom!”

“Hey Greg,” Tom said, tilting his head, looking up at him. Tom looked – really fucking handsome. His costume was like, kind of stupid, but also hot? He had on a Georgian style jacket which was cut high in front and low in back in deep blue velvet, white high waisted pantaloons and black riding boots, and he had a flouncy white cravat at his neck. 

“Who are you supposed to be?” Greg asked.

“Mistah Dahcee, at yaw service,” Tom said in the worst English accent Greg had ever heard. Tom frowned, looking at Greg's old fashioned three piece suit and high cravat. “don't tell me you're Darcy too?”

“No,” Greg said, sitting down next to him. “I'm Jo March.”

Tom spluttered a laugh, stared. “Excuse me? You're a nineteenth century lesbian?”

Greg was confused. “No? Uh? It's like, a guy, from like, a movie. Or a book or whatever.”

“A book called Little Women, Greg.”

“No, it's – like, there are these four sisters, and there's this dude they're friends with, and I'm him. Jo March.”

Tom laughed. “You fucking idiot. You're thinking of Laurie.”

“No, I think that's one of the sisters,” Greg said. “I'm Jo.”

“It's short for Jose- look, just look here,” Tom said, getting his phone out, shuffling to sit flush next to him. He put 'Laurie Little Women' into Google images and it spat out a bunch of pictures of young dark haired dudes in various adaptations. Then Tom deleted 'Laurie' and wrote 'Jo' instead and there were all these girls. Greg's mouth fell open.

“Seriously? I've been telling people I'm Jo March all night.”

Tom leaned backwards, laughing, wiped his eyes. “Oh god I needed that. You are one of the fucking wonders of the world Gregory. How did you even come up with this?”

“Well, I'm not, like, super creative, so I wasn't sure what my costume was going to be, so I made a video on instagram asking for suggestions and someone said Jo March from Little Women and it got a ton of likes so I just googled Little Women and there were pictures of these girls and a guy and I just assumed they meant him.” He cleared his throat. “The guy was kind of hot so I was actually pretty flattered.”

“And you did no more research.”

Greg shrugged. “I just sent the photo to Trish and asked if she could get me the costume the dude was wearing.”

“Fucking brilliant.”

“So um, your costume is pretty good. You look great.”

“Thank you!” Tom said. “At least someone appreciates it.” He looked away and Greg followed his gaze over to where Shiv was laughing with some of Willa's friends, wearing a sexy devil costume. 

Greg guessed they were fighting. He knew Tom was unhappy, and he knew it wasn't working out, and he knew Tom even planned on saying something to her about it, maybe ending it. He knew all these things because Tom would come over to hang, mostly unannounced, and they'd get a little drunk and he'd talk and talk before Greg managed to shove him into a cab home or Tom passed out on Greg's sofa. The whole situation really sucked and it was a little painful to watch. And he liked and respected Shiv, too, and he couldn't really understand why she was cool with Tom being so miserable. She wasn't like... an evil person. Maybe a kind of selfish one, though. The dude she was talking to leaned in to whisper something in her ear.

There was a high-pitched laughter and they both looked up to see Roman in a Waluigi costume. “What the fuck is this?” he asked. “Jane Austen's Dumb And Dumber?”

“Hey Rome,” Greg said amiably. “I'm Jo March. Uh, no, wait, I'm-”

“Why do you _match?_ ” Roman grinned.

“Why don't you fuck off, Roman,” Tom said. 

Roman's eyebrows shot up and he put both palms up, sniggering, and walked off.

“Harsh, dude,” Greg said.

“I'm not in the mood,” Tom said, looked over at Shiv again. 

“You okay, Tom?”

“Yeah, yeah. I'd just – I'd kind of looked forward to tonight, planned this whole costume. He's a book character too, from a book I've actually read Greg, and Shiv was going to be Elizabeth Bennet, the love of Mr Darcy's life, and last minute she decided she wanted to be a hot devil instead. And now she's mad at me because I'm mad at her and it's just...” He sighed big. Greg nodded. This was pretty much par for the course. 

“Well,” Greg said amicably. “it's a really good costume dude. “

“I um. I rehearsed a speech, too,” Tom said, looking down. “maybe you wanna hear it?”

Greg nodded, smiled. He didn't really have any interest in whatever ren faire nonsense Tom had prepared but this had become part of their relationship, Tom got upset and Greg did his level best to make him feel a little better.

“So uh, this is, actually from like a movie version and not the book, but uh, yeah, whatever, doesn't matter. Okay, context, a few months earlier I asked you to marry me and you told me to fuck off.” He cleared his throat, then he turned and looked at Greg, and arranged his features from the kind of downtrodden frown he'd been wearing to a different kind of sadness, one full of longing and pain and – hope, too? It was kind of a lot, Tom looking into his eyes like that, and he had no idea what kind of expression he should have on his face while it was happening, and he felt himself go a little blank. “Miss Eliz-” Tom started, then he paused. “Miss Jo March. I believe you spoke with my aunt last night, and it has taught me to hope as I'd scarcely allowed myself before.” Greg fought a smile. “If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes have not changed, but one word from you will silence me forever.” The emerging smile on Greg's face faded away. Tom's voice was going deeper, into a pleasant rumble Greg was sure he'd never heard him produce before, and it might just be in his head but his awful English accent seemed better too. And he was still like, not just looking, but _gazing_ into his eyes. “If, however, your feelings have changed, I will have to tell you -” Tom took an audible breath. Greg had kind of forgotten how to breathe. “you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love- I love- I _love you._ ” Maybe this would have been funny or whatever if Tom didn't look so utterly fucking sincere. Then he took Greg's hand in his. “I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”

There was a silent little moment, Tom's hand warm on Greg's, his face still all serious and intense, and then his eyes widened and his eyebrows raised and his jaw tensed and he very clearly wanted a reaction. 

“Uh wow,” Greg said. “like, uh, super impressive.”

“ _Thank_ you! God,” Tom said, let go of him. “hey, you want a drink buddy? I want a drink.”

“Yeah uh, like, a red?”

“Coming right up,” Tom said, leaned in, and his English accent was back to terrible. “let us get absolutely arseholed, squire.” He slapped Greg's knee and Greg jumped a little, and Tom got up and walked for the bar. Greg crossed his legs and then he crossed his arms, hunched over. 

He'd take a drink, but what he really fucking needed was a cold shower.


End file.
